


Can anything ever be normal?

by BlackWolf105



Series: The BAU and the Strange, Annoying and Frustrating Series of Days [1]
Category: Criminal Minds (US TV), Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Gen, Post season 5 of POI, background Sameen Shaw/Root, but everyone is alive, meaning that JJ is a profiler and Emily is still around, mentions of bombs and bombings (cannon typical), takes place around season 7 of Criminal Minds, why can't Root ever do things like a normal person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-17
Updated: 2019-11-17
Packaged: 2021-02-08 03:22:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21469243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackWolf105/pseuds/BlackWolf105
Summary: “Well, despite the impressive online file, Penelope swears that no one in the New York field office has ever heard of an Agent Augusta King.”Hotch frowned at the younger agent. “So if this woman isn’t an FBI agent, then who is she?”/**While on a seeming typical case about a serial bomber, the BAU team encounters a strange woman, who may know more about the crimes then she's letting on.
Series: The BAU and the Strange, Annoying and Frustrating Series of Days [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1646311
Comments: 4
Kudos: 57





	Can anything ever be normal?

**Author's Note:**

> This idea came to me at approximately 12:30 last night, and I wrote it at like, 2 in the morning so... yeah. This happened... o_O  
Anyway, I hope you enjoy!  
Comments and kudos are appreciated as always.

“Are you sure, Babygirl?”

“_Am I-? Did Michelangelo chisel your body from the same stone as David?” _Derek Morgan rolled his eyes as JJ let out a muffled laugh behind him. “_And before you ask, the answer is yes, yes he did. As much as I wish I had more to give you, I got nothing._”

“Alright, thanks Mama,” Derek signed off with a sigh, turning to look at Hotch as the older man glanced up from the composite sketch in his hands.

“Well, despite the impressive online file, Penelope swears that no one in the New York field office has ever even heard of an Agent Augusta King.”

Hotch frowned at the younger agent. “So if this woman isn’t an FBI agent, then who is she?”

“She could be the UNSUB.” All eyes turned to David Rossi as the older man pushed back his chair, standing. “Think about it – a bomb goes off, nearly killing thirty-five people, and then we find a woman digging through the debris, who's just claiming to be an FBI agent?”

“True,” this time it was Spencer who spoke, “but do we really think the UNSUB is a woman? I mean, statistically, serial bombers tend to be male. Not to mention that the profile points to a male.”

Hotch nodded, “While that is true, we can’t rule out the possibility that this woman could be the offender, or an accomplice.”

“We didn’t profile an accomplice,” Prentiss voiced, “this UNSUB is too careful, too methodical. He craves control, and having an accomplice takes some of that away.”

“Not to mention his anti-social life style wouldn’t allow for the close connections that having an accomplice would entail,” Derek added.

“It wouldn’t be the first time a profile was wrong. Hotch is right,” Rossi stepped forward, taking the sketch from the team leader and pinning it to the board, “we shouldn’t rule out that this woman could be involved. _Even_ if the profile points away from it.”

“So say she is the UNSUB, what was she doing at the crime scene, and why would she tell us she was an FBI agent?” Reid frowned, “It’s an easy enough lie to prove, she must have known that we would figure it out.”

Hotch shook his head. “I’m not sure, but whatever the reason or her connection to the bombings, we need to find her. And fast. JJ,” he turned to the newest profiler, “get together a press release – I want this woman’s face plastered over every media and news outlet in the city. Morgan,” the younger man straightened slightly as Hotch addressed him, “call Garcia back, get her to run facial recognition through any security footage and CCTV camera’s she can get access to.” Both agents nodded in response. “The sooner we find her, the better.”

“Somehow I don’t think that’ll be all that necessary.”

Derek spun around, drawing his gun as he came face to face with the mystery woman, every other agent in the room right behind him.

“Now, now, there's no need for that; I’m unarmed and come in peace.” She said the last part with a bit of a smirk, like it was some sort of inside joke she expected him to understand.

“Put your hands in the air. Slowly.” The woman’s eyes drifted towards Hotch as he spoke, her small smirk never fading as she causally lifted her leather clad hands up beside her face. “Now turn around.”

The woman’s eyebrow lifted slightly at the order, and she opened her mouth slightly, as though about to speak, before apparently thinking better of it and simply complying.

As soon as Hotch nodded at him, Derek holstered his gun, stepping forward and drawing the woman’s hands behind her back, and pulling out his handcuffs.

“You know, usually I’m down for this sort of thing, but don’t you think we should establish a safe word first?” Over the woman’s head, Derek shared an incredulous look with JJ.

_Who the hell was this woman?_

*-*-*

“Have you found anything at all, Garcia?” Jennifer hit the speaker phone button, holding her phone out so that Hotch, Rossi, and Emily could hear what the other woman had to say.

“_If by anything, you mean a whole lot of nothing, then yes. _” 

“So you can’t find anything on her?”

“_Oh no, I can find plenty. That’s the problem._”

JJ frowned, sharing a look with the others. “What do you mean?”

“_You know how people talk about being offline? Well this woman is the complete opposite. She’s all over the place; CCTV footage, security cameras; I ran facial recognition and came up with hundreds of hits._”

“So whats the problem, Garcia?”

“_The problem is that it’s all fake! Just like the phony FBI file. Online, this woman is literally _hundreds_ of people, with hundreds of names, and jobs, and bank accounts, even social security numbers. She’s everything from a French full time nanny with a reputable service record to a caterer to a licensed therapist. Hell, it even looks like she almost got married once._”

“And you can’t find anything that might tell us who this woman actually is?” Even Hotch sounded frustrated.

“_I can tell you where she bought her coffee this morning, or what she picked up at the grocery store last night, or a hundred other things about where she spends her time and what she does, but I can’t actually tell you anything about _who_ she is._”

“Alright, well keep looking, Garcia, and let us know if you do find anything.”

“_You got it Boss-Man. PG out._”

“What the hell?” Rossi glanced up, looking through the two way mirror at the woman sitting calmly on the other side. “Who the hell is this woman?”

Hotch let out a breath. “That’s what I’m going to try and find out.”

With that, he pushed open the door to the interrogation room, JJ right behind him.

*-*-*

The woman glanced up as the door swung open, her small smirk returning to her face as JJ sat down across from her. Hotch chose to remain standing.

The room was quiet for a moment, the only sound that of the woman’s painted nails tapping against metal surface of the table in a rhythmic pattern. She seemed entirely content to wait for one of them to speak first.

“My name is-”

“Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner,” the woman flippantly interrupted him with a vague wave of her hand, “ and SSA Jennifer Jareau, from the FBI’s prized Behavioral Analysis Unit.”

The room was silent for another moment.

“You seem to know a lot about us.” JJ forced the surprise from her voice, keeping it calm and conversational.

“I can know a lot about a lot of people.” The woman’s small smile grew, her head tipping slightly to the right as her gaze slipped past JJ’s. “I know that SSA’s David Rossi and Emily Prentiss are standing on the other side of that glass. And that Derek Morgan and Dr. Spencer Reid aren’t that far behind. And I know that no matter how hard she looks, or how good she is, Penelope Garcia won’t find anything about me. Well, the _real_,” JJ could practically hear the quotation marks around the word, “me anyway.”

“Like I said, you seem to know a lot about us.” Hotch’s voice was cold and clipped compared to JJ’s. “And, as you pointed out, we know nothing about you.”

The smile grew again, her gaze sliding from the mirror to Hotch’s to somewhere above both their heads, before finally settling at JJ’s. “Do you know what the most valuable currency in the world is?”

JJ blinked. “Excuse me?”

“See, people _think_ its money, or gold, or whatever” the woman continued as though JJ had never spoken, “but it’s not.”

JJ leaned back, deciding to play along. “So what is it then?”

The woman grinned, “Information.”

“And let me guess, you have some.”

“Oh no, not some.” Again, the woman’s eyes drifted up for half a second before returning, her grin never diminishing.

Hotch stepped forward, his growing frustration evident only to a his friend and colleagues. “Who are you?”

The woman leaned back, her gaze fixating on Hotch’s . “A messenger.”

JJ sat up straighter. “A messenger? From who?”

“From god of course.”

JJ blinked.

She had been prepared for a lot of answers.

That hadn’t been one of them.

“You’re a messenger… from God.” She couldn’t quite keep the disbelief from her voice.

The woman simply smiled.

“If you’re a messenger, you have to have a message. So what is it?”

The woman smiled at Hotch, her head tipping slightly once again as she regarded him. “47 November, 122 whiskey.”

From the corner of her eye, JJ saw Hotch frown. “What does that mean?”

The woman shrugged. “I have no idea; I’m just the messenger. You’re a smart man, Agent, with a team of some of the best. She’s sure you’ll figure it out.”

“She?” JJ glanced at Hotch, her eyebrows drawn together. “She who?”

The woman simply grinned again, her shoulder’s coming up in a shrug as she spoke, “God.” 

There was a brief knocking on the door, before it opened, revealing one of the local officers, looking concerned. “Agents, we just got another call from the bomber. Same time line – fifteen minutes – and no other information.”

JJ drew her lips together, glancing up at Hotch, who fixed his gaze once again on the woman sitting across from them. “We’re on our way, officer. Watch her.”

The officer nodded, stepping into the room as both the agents left, the door closing behind them.

Once outside, the two agents were greeted with their four remaining colleagues.

“We need to move fast; we only have fifteen minutes before the next attack, and no way of knowing where it will be-”

“Actually,” Reid interrupted, his gaze locked onto the mystery woman still sitting in the interrogation room, smiling at the camera, “I think I just might.”

*-*-*

Prentiss blew out a breath as she watched the local PD push the bomber into the back of one of the cop cars, closing her eyes briefly before turning to the rest of her team.

“So we got the guy.”

Derek nodded. “Yeah, we did. Thanks to the coordinates the woman gave us.”

“What are we gonna do about her?”

“She impersonated a federal agent, and had key knowledge about an ongoing criminal investigation. I don’t know how she would have gotten it without having first hand knowledge of the crimes, and even if she didn’t, she still broke the law.”

Prentiss nodded as Hotch turned and made his way back to the SUV. “So arrest her it is.”

*-*-*

“What do you mean, she’s gone?” Rossi winced slightly at Hotch’s tone, pitying the rookie officer who was bearing the brunt force of the profilers anger. “What happened?”

“One minute I was watching her on the security camera, then a woman came in, wanting directions to the nearest gas station! I took my eyes off the footage for probably ten seconds, gave her the directions, she said thanks and left. By the time I looked back, the suspect was gone!”

“Hold up, you said another woman came in?” Rossi narrowed his eyes at the rookie.

“Yeah, some woman with a big dog. I’d never seen her before, figured she was just passing through.”

Rossi closed his eyes. “And there’s no trace of the woman anywhere?”

“It’s almost like she was never here. Hell, even the security footage disappeared.”

Rossi’s eyes snapped open. “Almost. You said it was _almost_ like she had never been here.”

The rookie nodded. “When I went to interrogation room to see if she was really gone, the only thing I found was this.” The man reached across the desk and picked up a small evidence bag, containing a rectangular piece of paper.

Reaching out, Rossi took it, feeling as the rest of team gathered at his back to read over his shoulder.

** _FEDERAL BUREAU OF INVESTIGATION_ **

** _SUPERVISORY SPECIAL AGENT AARON HOTCHNER_ **

** _1(800)746-874_ **

With a frown, Rossi flipped the card over, reading the neatly scrawled, handwritten message.

_Told you you’d figure it out._

_\--Root _

With a shake of his head, Rossi dropped the card onto the desk. "Is it too much to ask for one, just one, normal day in this job?"


End file.
